Secrets 1935
by pinkowitch
Summary: Rosalie must confide her deepest secrets to Emmett, not long after they meet. Special thanks to my beta, Ras1.


**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Rosalie~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

He had called me his angel when I had first saved him. I'll never forget his eyes when he said it. They were worshipful as if I were winged seraphim sent to him by god. Me! I scoffed at the memory as I sat, hugging my knees on the roof of our home. It was one of my favorite places to escape to – up here away from the bustle and noise of the house, where the air smelled cleaner and fresher. Up here, where Edward's disapproval couldn't reach me, where Carlisle and Esme's kindness and sympathy couldn't smother me.

And up here, Emmett couldn't find me either.

It had been several weeks since he had come here, mortally wounded. He was taking to his life as a newborn better than anyone had expected. In fact, he was the happiest vampire that any of us had ever known. And that fact, Emmett said whenever he was given the chance, was entirely up to me, "his angel."

We had spent a good deal of time together since he had arrived– nearly every moment, to be honest. We teased and joked, and he made me laugh like I never thought I would again. But more importantly, we talked about our families and our friends, the hopes and dreams that sustained us as humans – I had opened up to him in a way that would have seemed impossible to me only a few months before.

But I had never told him my deepest secret, because he thought I was an angel.

How very wrong he was.

An angel! Very few angels were as soiled and ruined as I was. Emmett didn't know I was a fallen woman…tarnished…used goods. Edward – the only one but Carlisle who knew of my darkness – had rejected me in disgust from the very beginning. Why would Emmett be any different? Yes, he was sweet…and handsome…and funny…and kind…and – and a man. And all men were the same when it really came down to it, weren't they? They all wanted pure, beautiful ladies in the end, not soiled and broken ones.

I had thought for these past precious weeks I had spent with him that all would be well. That we could just be friends, best friends, perhaps, always together, but never becoming intimate enough that I would have to reveal my damning secret.

But today – today Emmett had asked me to be his mate. That was how I had come to be up here on the roof, hiding from Emmett, from Edward, and most of all, from myself.

I wanted to say yes.

But if I did, he would have to know. And I could see now the disappointment in his eyes when he heard the things his angel had done. I could see the worshipping adoration in his eyes fade, to be replaced with that strange mix of pity and disgust that men held for women like me. I would fall in his eyes, and he would cast me aside.

Like _he_ had.

Like Edward had.

Like they all would.

I would have to tell him, though. I would have to explain. And better that he find it out from my lips, before the fact, than at a far more awkward time when he would find out anyway that I was not the pure and virginal angel he thought me to be.

"Rose?!" I heard his deep voice call, pulling me from my dark thoughts. I should have known that he would follow. The time had come for me to come clean to Emmett. I stood, waving a hand.

"Up here," I called to him, and he turned his head in the direction of my voice, shading his eyes as he did.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" he asked in amusement. Several seconds later I found him standing beside me. He looked at me for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from my face in that tender and gentle way of his. I leaned into his hand like a kitten and closed my eyes.

"You know, Rose," he said softly, sounding almost unsure of himself. "If you don't feel that way about me, it's okay…really. We can just keep things the way they are…just…be friends. I just want you in my life, in any way I can have you. And if you don't want to be my mate – if you just want to be friends – well, I…" he cleared his throat. "I'm okay with that."

It broke my heart to hear him speak that way. I opened my eyes, meeting his red eyes with my golden ones.

"Emmett, there are things about me you don't know. Terrible things."

Emmett laughed in the easy way he had. "They can't be too terrible, Rose. You're an angel."

Hearing those words, something inside of me snapped. I clenched my fists in both rage and misery, and began pounding them against Emmett's sturdy chest, my whole body wracked with choking sobs and tears that could never fall.

"NO!" I bellowed, surprising even myself with the intensity of my voice. "I'm not an angel. I'm a whore, a tramp, a soiled, fallen woman! A used harlot!" I threw all the hateful words I knew against myself to try to get him to understand. "Don't you understand?" I gasped finally. "Don't you see? I'm not an angel, Emmett. You're wrong about me. You're wrong. I'm not an angel. I'm not even a lady." I lowered my voice even lower. "I'm not even a virgin."

There. I had said it.

I lowered my face so that Emmett couldn't see me and I couldn't see him. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, before I felt him shrug, nonchalantly.

"So? Neither am I."

This was not the answer I had expected. Where was the recrimination, the disgust? I looked up at him, not sure that he had understood.

"Did you hear me? I've been with other men."

Emmett cocked an eyebrow endearingly. "That's generally what "I'm not a virgin" means."

"Doesn't that bother you?" I asked, shocked.

Emmett hesitated for a moment.

_Here it comes_, I thought.

"Well," he started thoughtfully. "That depends. If it was your choice and done out of your own free will, then no. It doesn't bother me at all. But, on the other hand, if it wasn't your choice, and someone hurt you, then yes, it damn well does bother me. Which one was it, Rose?"  
There was a hard edge to Emmett's voice as he asked that question, and I suddenly saw that my easy-going, happy man could possibly be very frightening if provoked.

I looked down, clasping my hands. "It wasn't my choice," I said softly, "but it was my fault."

"How?" asked Emmett, without a trace of humor.

And it all came flooding out. I had never told anyone before. Carlisle and Edward had already known. So I related to him the story of how I had been foolish enough to go out alone, after dark, and how I had brought this horror onto myself through my own stupidity. By the end of my story, the remembered pain had made me curl into a ball and hug my knees tightly to me.

"So you see," I finished, "I'm not an angel at all, but a foolish girl who deserved what she got. Who brought it on herself."

Emmett's fists were clenched in thinly disguised rage.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before…I'm sorry I let you think that I was…I'm sorry I led you to believe that I might actually be your angel when I'm just a broken, soiled, stupid girl."

I buried my face in my knees, unable to face his anger. He would rise and leave soon, and perhaps I would never even see him again. But better that it happen now, than after I had truly fallen completely and utterly in love with him.

_Too late for that,_ something inside of me chided.

Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted. I struggled at first, but I could not fight Emmett's iron grasp. I opened my eyes to find him lifting me into his lap, and crushing me against him in a bear hug.

I could not remember when I had ever felt so safe.

He said nothing for a long moment, and I could have sworn that his shoulders were shaking in what felt like sobs.

When he finally did speak, his voice was very soft, as if he feared it would break at any moment.

"Rose, my dearest Rose, do you think so little of me as that? You expect me to hate you, to cast you aside because someone hurt you?" Emmett's eyes darkened. "Who are they, Rose? Where are they? Tell me their names."

"They're dead, I killed them," I said quickly. Another reason I was far from being an angel.

But instead of being horrified, Emmett laughed. He actually laughed. I looked up at him – I couldn't help it – and was shocked to see not horror or disgust or even pity – but the same worshipful adoration with which he had always looked at me.

"Oh, Rose, you're every bit the angel I thought you were. Sweet and perfect and beautiful, and terrible when angered. Both my gentle seraphim and my avenging Michael, all in one."

I began to shake. I had told him the truth, in all its terrible details, and still he called me his angel. Still he held me close and…loved me?

"Emmett…"

He raised an eyebrow in response.

"I…" I stopped, at a complete loss for words.

"Is this the only deep, dark secret you're keeping from me, Rose? That you were hurt by horrible men who you killed in revenge?"

"I…yes."

"And is this why you ran from me earlier?"

"Er…yes."

"Alright, well, I'm going to ask again."

"Erf." It wasn't a very pretty response, but I was too shocked to make any other sound.

"Rose, my angel, my strong, beautiful, intelligent, free-spirited and perfect angel," he said with a crooked smile and a twinkle in his eye, "Will you please be my mate and not crush my fragile male ego again by running from me like I'm some kind of monster?"

My heart melted in my chest. Literally. I could feel the liquid in my stomach. I could form no words, but threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, my love, my Emmett. Who knew my darkest secrets and still loved me. Who still thought me an angel, despite my faults.

This, perhaps, was the true meaning of love.


End file.
